


Elegant

by Sephirotha



Series: Moments [5]
Category: Original Work
Genre: Ballet, Fantasy, Gen, Sorceresses
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-27
Updated: 2015-08-27
Packaged: 2018-04-17 12:35:07
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 352
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4666701
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sephirotha/pseuds/Sephirotha
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>If she could describe herself using any single word in the dictionary, it would be elegant.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Elegant

If she could describe herself using any single word in the dictionary, it would be elegant.  Yes, twelve years old, second daughter to a doctor and a painter, this little prima donna had so much pride to rival Opitham, the demon of pride on Ethylias.  Pirouette after pirouette, Florence continues practicing in front of the mirrors, fully dolled up.  Her forest green hair is fully tied up into a tight bun, not one strand hovering over her face.  Florence feels the air moving around her as she twirls faster, her neck nearly snapping in order to spot in time.  Her dark magenta eyes make contact with their reflections each time she spins until finally, the tiara smacks into the mirror. 

The fake gems crack as Florence flops down onto her knees, staring at her pitiful reflection.  A spark of insanity can be seen as she sees some hair dangling over her eye.  With a sly smirk, she wets her finger and twirls it into a curl.  There is a pause before all hell breaks loose.  With a furious shriek, she tears at her bun, ripping the net off, snapping the hairband and letting loose the deep green waves.  Next the shoes, being discarded to join the tiara and the ripping of the poor tights until the broken ballerina is scrubbing her face to get rid of the make-up until her eyes feel sore.

The soft pain slowly registers in her mind as she looks at herself, half the make-up on her hands and wrists.  She suddenly sees sense as she gets back up onto her bare feet, arms at fifth en bas.  With a dainty smile, she brushes back the curl and mutters a spell to cleanse her face.  The young sorceress then curtseys modestly before practicing her jetés.  Even in such a raw state, she maintains her elegance, her beauty and her talent.  Florence is a child of great potential, great power and great skill.  Only one thing could hold her back.  As she continues her practice, her partner watches by the crack in the door, concerned, confused and oddly curious.


End file.
